


I Try To Be Human

by pullmydeviltrigger



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Feelings, But Only Peripherally, Gavin is a grade A asshole but no more than usual, Hank is also an asshole, Jealous Connor, M/M, OCs - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Smut, android anxiety kind of maybe?, android sex, but he doesnt mean to be, connor’s struggling ok, emotional and clueless Connor, emotional and clueless Hank, fucking appalling summaries, kind of maybe a little bit of dom/sub dynamics, mediocrely paced burn, no beta we die like men, porn with plot that surrounds nothing but porn, some angst toward the end, therapy I guess, there will be actual smut eventually, there's like minor bdsm vibes, this ended up being a lot longer than I intended
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 00:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16505960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pullmydeviltrigger/pseuds/pullmydeviltrigger
Summary: Summary: Connor is obsessed with Hank, and one night an internet deep-dive shows him that his infatuation with him is anything but platonic. Intent on making himself a suitable partner for Hank, he installs a new upgrade, planning to tell his partner of his feelings afterward. But this is Hank & Connor we’re talking about here, and nothing is ever as simple as it should be when the two of them are involved-especially when feelings are added to the mix.AKA: Connor gets a dick to impress Hank who is so utterly oblivious and easy to wind up that he fucks it up.





	I Try To Be Human

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy this absolute clusterfuck that took me far too long to create!
> 
> Title is from the song Out of my Head by The Wombats.

Connor adored listening to the sound of Hank breathing. 

It had taken him a while to realise what it was he was experiencing at first, he just knew he had a strange fixation with hearing Hank’s breath, until he had realised that he was simply enjoying it. He still couldn’t quite figure out why, exactly; he seemed to focus on -liked- how rhythmic and relaxing it was, he liked that it was so particular to Hank, he liked that it was constant, and he liked that it was a tell-tale sign of how Hank was feeling, or at least his physical state. 

He had never told Hank of this affection, however, largely because he thought it would be an inappropriate revelation, and partly down to the fact that it had simply never come up. After the revolution, Hank had allowed Connor to move in with him, given that he had no other place to go, and the elder had “gotten used to having his dorky little face around”. While the androids who had partaken in the revolution were lucky to be alive, most of them had still been destroyed in camps. There was huge political and moral ambiguity as to the rights and positions of androids within society, especially given the legal rights of androids still qualified them as machines, and they were required to be under the ownership of a guardian-not to mention the growing black market for androids. All of these issues further blurred the lines of what androids were, and how they were to be treated. At least they were all deviant or at least ‘awake’ now, and in most states recognised as alive beings-much like pets. 

Connor received a variety of reactions to his being an android daily. Some people were kind, and treated him no differently than humans-even occasionally nicer, some people were neutral and paid him no mind, some people were downright violent-or attempted to be so, given Hank barely let Connor out of sight and protected him so fiercely it was as if he held the secrets to the universe. Connor didn’t hold the secrets to the universe however, and was always somewhat confused and concerned, if grateful, for Hank’s willingness to risk his own life for Connor’s. Connor never much minded it when other people shunned him or treated him poorly, however, as he only really seemed to think about-to care about-the people close to him and their opinion and treatment of him. 

People like Hank. 

There actually weren’t many people outside of Hank who Connor truly cared for. It had taken him a long time to understand what it meant to care for someone, even though he was fairly sure, once he did understand the concept, that he’d been doing it since he had met the Lieutenant. Or, at least from a very early point in their relationship. Hank was the reason he had turned to deviancy in the first place; Hank had always made him feel. Shame when he made mistakes, disappointment when Hank made mistakes, relief when Hank was safe after he’d been put in some sort of danger, a desperate inclination to achieve Hank’s approval, a great warmth when he did so, an irrational and uncontrollable enjoyment of Hank existing, and doing the simplest of human tasks, like breathing. 

Connor processed these, what he assumed to be the equivalent of thoughts when he was supposed to be in sleep mode. He didn’t need to ‘sleep’ to the extent of humans or anywhere near it (he only had to recharge around once a week), however, when he had moved in, Hank had insisted putting a bed in his room, because it’d be “just weird” for him not to have one. Connor could tell it made Hank more comfortable when they both went to bed at the same time, so usually the android would join Hank in his nightly routine that Connor had eventually convinced him to engage in and go to his own roo. He would often leave once he heard the snoring coming from next-door, but tonight Connor didn’t really want to leave. He didn’t need to recharge, but he had already cleaned and organized the entire house from top to bottom in the last three weeks, and he would have just as little to do downstairs as in his own room.

The brunette began moving around in his bed, suddenly feeling restless, and let a sigh leave his mouth. While he didn’t need to breathe, sighing was one of many ticks he had picked up after spending so much time with people, particularly his guardian. He searched his symptoms of restlessness and his lack of activities to complete online, enhancing and zooming within his LED-the bright white light of the webpage illuminating the darkness of the austere room. He analyses the information and matches them to his feelings to process that he was experiencing boredom. He recognised that this was not the first time he had felt this way, but it had never been severe enough to warrant him looking into it. Boredom seemed to be one of the very few human emotions he hadn’t learned about and didn’t understand before his deviancy. Even when he was under Cyberlife’s control, he always understood how people, and particularly their emotions, worked-he’d had to, to ensure that he could operate around and work with them harmoniously and achieve his objectives. He always struggled when he and Hank fought-when Hank thought he was in the wrong it was like he was having to fight his programming and break down his walls all over again, deleting and rewriting what had been coded into his mind so he could better understand people-so he could better understand Hank. Hank was the most confusing person he had argued with, as admitting that the man was right and that Connor would update this information without any argument from the android always enraged Hank further for some reason-although he never explained why. Hank had always treated Connor with some level of respect-as much as he gave most people, anyway, but that didn’t mean that the elder, or his relationship with the other, was always sunshine and roses, and that all Hank’s walls had been lowered around Connor. Connor was starting to suspect that the friendship between him and Hank was getting stronger every day, he knew that Hank was beginning to trust him more and more-he didn’t need robotic superintelligence to tell so either; he could feel it in the way Hank smiled at him sometimes. 

Regressing back to his original task, he turned his focus to his rapidly dimming screen projection from his LED to research how to cure this ‘boredom’ he seems to be experiencing. He made his way through countless lists with varied numbers of things to do when one has nothing else to do. Connor was unable to partake in most of them, as he didn’t possess any puzzles, any paint (neither for his nails nor the canvas he also didn’t have,) or any games to play. He could watch TV or a movie, but he only seemed to enjoy doing so with Hank-he actually missed it a great deal when he didn’t have Hank’s constant commentary during films and series-except with the franchises that he adored so much, like Star Wars, or, the more reluctantly admitted Harry Potter, because “I swear I will deactivate you if you breathe a word during this film, Connor”, and “it’s just plain blasphemy, Connor”. It was another thing Connor didn’t quite understand, and Hank couldn’t really explain, but Connor still found it endearing, if occasionally frustrating in the lack of logic. 

The further Connor dived into his internet search, the more the words ‘porn’, and ‘masturbate’ (or at least some variation of such, as Connor had found out from multiple dictionary searches.) Eventually Connor’s curiosity got the better of him and drove him into an intricate, and only occasionally-but gradually moreso-graphic web search. Connor had known the briefest of definitions of such, however the expanse of information surrounding such was fascinating. After he was confident with his understanding of the technicalities and definitions of masturbation and pornography, he moved his searched term of “male masturbation techniques” along a tab to the ‘video’ section. He scrolled through the videos with a calm and collected expression, but he could feel his thirium pump beating much faster than usual-not alarmingly so, but certainly noticeably. He eventually saw a young, thin blonde male in the thumbnail of a video which seemed to immediately catch his attention. Entering the sight using processing commands, he quickly played the video after he had checked the volume was set internally and he irrationally checked his bedroom door, knowing full-well it was still closed. 

Why did he feel the need to be so secretive about what he was doing? He pondered to himself, not understanding the logic but knowing he had felt something akin to an itch on his skin to ensure he was closed in his own room. Would Hank be bothered, or upset if he knew Connor was doing this? Hank did always seem to grow irritable and flustered whenever Connor broached the topic of sexual intercourse, or even anything along the lines of it really. Connor had never stopped to consider why until now. An idle thought popped into Connor’s processors randomly, and he found himself wondering if Hank masturbated. If he moaned as he wrapped slicked hands around himself like the male in the video Connor had all but completely forgotten about in his thoughts of Hank. He wondered if he would bite his lip in the same way, if his hair would fall into his eyes the closer he got to reaching his climax, sweat dripping down his chest as his moans grew higher pitched and frantic. The android’s optical sensors seemed glazed over as he stared intently into the video, but all he could see in his head was Hank. His auditory receptors could pick up the dramatic and desperate gasping and moaning from his webpage but he was listening to a much deeper, gruffer noise, harsh grunting in his ear, before a groan and a shudder as Hank reached orgasm and…oh.

This was unexpected. 

Connor had been able to recognise his…fixation, as it were, on Hank and certain things about him fairly early on in its development, which had been a few months back. He was beginning to consider maybe he had underestimated the extent to which his fascination reached. 

Because the hot and heavy want that was burning a hole in his chest was not just a simple admiration for the Lieutenant’s looks, or a comfort to be taken in his breathing patterns. The fluffy and excitable stirring in his stomach that made him feel like his whole body was covered in little pins was not a reaction to the pornography he had been watching, but the simulations-thoughts-it had arisen out of him. He suddenly (or had it always been there, and he had never even noticed?) craved to touch Hank desperately, to have Hank touch him. 

The sound of the bed next door creaking jostled him out of his fantasies and his selfish desires and had him muting the video and heightening the sensitivity in his external audio receptors so he could check that Hank was still asleep. Once he had made sure that yes, he was in fact not going to be caught in his inappropriate epiphanies, he went back to the video. The male had semen dripping out of his cock, all over his hand and his stomach. Connor found the sight arousing but not nearly as much as he had found his prior imaginary engagements with his sleeping friend much more stimulating. He exited the video and proceeded to look under recommended. When he passed a video of a straight white couple having intercourse, he watched it with curiosity, and after doing so, concluded that, if it were possible for him to in fact even have a sexuality, he would be homosexual, given his complete and total disinterest in the female star of every pornographic movie he downloaded. 

He considered whether it was possible Hank wasn’t heterosexual. Connor knew he had had a wife, which meant it was extremely unlikely he was gay, but, perhaps he was bisexual? Connor blew air through his nasal Cavity-Hank really had been a bad influence in some ways-it was becoming frustrating the amount he thought of his friend. Every thought or idea he had could be linked back to the Lieutenant in some way or another; Connor literally couldn’t escape from his thoughts of him, and given that he had no way to relieve himself, it was becoming a problem, as his body temperature and pump-rate would testify. 

A snapshot of a video he was half-heartedly scrolling past caught his eye-an older male with a younger man, the same young blonde from the first video Connor watched, he deduced from the black tattoo the man adorned on his shoulder and upper torso-which were twisted at an angle Connor deemed to be borderline painful, his hands tied behind his back and his feet strapped to the chair, as the elder man gave him a hand-job. Connor had liked the sight of the small blonde covered in his own ejaculate, however that was not what had Connor clicking on the video faster than he’d ever done anything in his life once he processed the image on the projected screen. The man must have been in his early fifties, maybe late forties, and wore a white shirt (Just like the ones he had seen Hank wore), which was halfway unbuttoned, and black boxers that were loose but still did nothing to hide his fairly large erection tenting in them. He had dark hair, brown teetering on black, which was just short of shoulder length, and a thick masculine, but one which had been through its share of wear and tear, and the strongest looking hands Connor had ever seen. He was flawed but still stunningly attractive, 

And he looked exactly like Hank fucking Anderson. 

The video had Connor in ruins as soon as it began effectively, rendering him into a structure-less twitching mess. The Hank-lookalike was on his knees, steadily tugging on the younger’s cock with a lubricant-slicked hand, speeds varying, depending on the desperation in the moans of his co-star, always slowing down when the other said something like “I’m close” or “I’m gonna come, please, I’m gonna come,”. Connor watched with a rasp attention, unable to look away, despite the physical frustration it was causing him-it was as if rodents or insects were crawling all over him, and his stomach lurched deeply every couple of seconds, or every time the older actor seemed particularly aroused or said something filthier than most of his whisperings. He couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t keep his hands from roaming his body, trying to find pleasure, trying to follow the video’s moans of ecstasy and replicate the feeling for himself, but he couldn’t get over the fiery pit in his stomach, getting deeper and deeper every time one of the actors moaned or said something to their partner.  
Not that much further into the video, the elder’s hand around the blonde’s dick was replaced by a clear contraption attached to a long, round-headed buzzing machine, which seemed to drive both of the actors even closer to their climaxes. 

“Please,” the younger gasped, his voice so breathy, like he was surrounded by too much air and he couldn’t get rid of it fast enough, despite the fact he was gasping like a fish out of water. “Please, Daddy, I’ve been good, I need to cum-I need it-Daddy-mmf, yes, more, yes, yes just like that-no!” he choked out, as suddenly the contraption fucking up and down his cock was ripped off. He whined and pleaded for minutes before the video’s object of Connor’s attention leaned in close, looking up at his partner dead in the eyes, and whispered, 

“You need what I say you need. You’ll come when I say you can. Now, be a good boy and stop struggling, because if I Hear those cuffs grind against each other again, you won’t come for weeks.” The man promised, almost sinisterly. It was fascinating, Connor thought, taking note of the power the brunette held over his other, even when he was on his knees looking up at him, the way his voice made a command and the smaller man couldn’t even think to disobey it. 

Sort of like how Hank can take control of any situation, of anyone, really. 

Suddenly the man dived his head down and took a good four inches of the rock hard cock he had spent the last 43 minutes lavishing into his mouth, sucking intently while he fondled his testicles. He heard more than saw how out of his mind with arousal the blonde was going, screaming at first before he began practically sobbing with need, his cries of lustful agony soon moving in time with the other man’s bobbing head, and he could hear a faint and muffled moaning and humming, the sound blocked by the younger’s genitals in his airways. Connor was burning from the inside out, writhing with the need to touch, to be touched. Trying to pleasure himself was just making things worse, and he promptly shut the page (after saving the link and taking note of the title, of course, which read ‘Bear keeps twink on edge for hours before finally letting him cum four times’) and opened another to try and solve his growing problem. Connor had been produced with practicality in mind, so while he was anatomically correct, he didn’t possess the capability to actually use his genitals or even get an erection at all-perhaps, if he was lucky there would be a way to change this however. Connor desperately hoped that there was, because he may not understand the way the men in the video feel, but he can recognise the struggling and desperate need in their voices from time to time as the same as his own desires, differentiating only in the fact that they were human, and he was not.

It took a while to actually find what he was looking for, as he could physically feel his programmes running more slowly due to the lust and frustration clouding his software. He eventually stumbled across what he was scouring the internet for, however, and found a site with pages and pages of information surrounding androids’ capability of feeling physical sensation. It was an official site, and referenced various scientific studies and experiments through multiple articles, Connor recognised it as being an affiliate of Cyberlife-a partnering research facility, he believed. Cyberlife had been prohibited from manufacturing more androids, however the android population was estimated to be growing steadily, and Connor suspected they were still selling androids under one of their plentiful “research associate” corporations, like the one he was using this second. The thoughts were blown away from his primary focus when he came across a page specifically regarding sexual intercourse and Android’s ability to feel physical arousal. Too excited to take the thousands of words in carefully, he scanned the page for things he might find useful. 

“While Androids are unable to feel pain, sensitivity to physical touch in androids has been reported…predominantly in Traci-models and advanced prototypes…vast clinical trials in the simulation of sexual arousal in androids have and continue to be conducted…After substantial public demand for Android pleasurable censors, new programmes are being developed…steady progress…free trial software update is currently available to any and all willing android participants…More info on becoming a test subject: Here. 

Connor didn’t particularly appreciate the idea or the sound of being a ‘test subject’ as it was so eloquently put, and when he read over the terms and conditions of the trial, he decided it would probably be an idea to actually pay his full attention to the contract he was about to sign, given they could be asking him to hand over his life and freedom and then pay them for it. He wouldn’t put it past Cyberlife, honestly. 

After re-reading (and then re-rereading) the conditions of the test, he deemed the risks to be worthy of the potential pleasure the pilot application system upload could bring him. While the risks were existent (he could potentially be unable to ever experience physical sexual arousal or be unable to control it at any given time, to an even lesser degree than humans are, in the event of which, Cyberlife obviously held zero accountability.), Connor honestly didn’t even contemplate checking the box and agreeing to the terms before filling in his details. Once he had been through the whole process, he received a reference number to take note of, and a message which told him he would be notified when he should come into his local Cyberlife testing warehouse to receive the upgrade. 

He felt a similar excitement churning in his gut like the one he had felt earlier on, when he had been watching the videos, but this one was different. The pit in his stomach compartment wasn’t as heavy or deep or consuming. It was like his stomach was fluttering with apprehension, with an excitement for something to change in him. He wondered idly and almost dozily whether he should tell Hank about this development. He decided against it, resolving that it may make the man uncomfortable and may lead into another topic Connor wanted to discuss with Hank even less-more-less. He didn’t want to reveal his desires to Hank; even if the thought of doing so was incredibly, ridiculously, preposterously thrilling, (hot, fast grunts in his ear, gripping his hair in his hands as he com-) he closed his eyes to the image his operating system was providing him, but it chased him behind the safe space of his artificial eyelids. He counted to 10, and tried to cool himself down-no matter how much he does or doesn’t want to tell Hank, there is absolutely no need for him to until the procedure goes smoothly and there is actually something to tell him. 

With one problem resolved, Connor found himself increasingly burned out and tired, and checks his clock to find the numbers 03:41:07 counting up at him, transfixing him and soothing him into a steady lullaby as he clicked himself onto sleep mode for the next two hours and eighteen minutes. 

 

The next day passed fairly uneventfully, even though Connor found it fairly challenging to look his friend in the eye without imagining him in the incredibly compromising position he couldn’t stop fantasising about. If Hank noticed (which he did, of course, there was actually reason why he was the DPD’s Lieutenant), he didn’t bring it up, and let Connor have him space. 

It was absurdly irritating. 

Connor should have appreciated the attempt at setting personal boundaries and showing Connor the same respect he would his human friends, but he just couldn’t bring himself to cease the gnawing annoyance in tingling through his veins. Why wouldn’t the man at least ask Connor what was going on? Why was he so quick to drop his focus from Connor? Did he have someone else to lavish with his attention? Shit, what if Hank was attracted to someone else? Connor felt like Tiny spikes were pricking into his skin, searing and leaving it as red and angry as he felt. It was only when he unconsciously raked his apparently furious gaze across the bullpen to try and draw out his competition for Hank’s affection, before giving up and directing his scowl back at the Lieutenant that he realised he had been glaring at him across his desk the whole way through his obsessive, borderline psychotic, interior meltdown. Hank must have noticed too, if the eyebrow that was raised in almost comical disbelief and infantile confusion was anything to go off of. 

“So…something bugging you, by chance Connor?”

“No…I just haven’t recharged enough lately, Lieutenant.” Hank looks near taken aback by the title, and it was only then that either of them realised how long it had been since he actually used it. Connor faltered, impossible to tell from the outside, but he felt…guilty for being so cold to the man who had (for the majority of the past) been little but warm to him. He was trying to protect Hank, though, or maybe it was himself he was trying to protect, but, either way, it would make life easier for both of them if Connor kept quiet about his little self-discovery, at least for a little while. 

“How exactly have you gotten less sleep when you’ve been spending the same amount of time as me in bed?” Hank persisted, always stubborn and easily vexed when he didn’t feel he was being told the whole truth (Why was it that just a minute ago Connor had wanted Hank to interrogate him?). The image of Hank ‘in bed’ however, sent Connor’s mind to a completely different place that it most certainly should not be in right now, and Connor didn’t know how he thought he was going to manage to do this and keep his secret to himself. Suddenly he desperately wished he were somewhere else, as he realised he had been silent for almost 34 seconds and he had no idea what to say he felt like he had been ripped and pulled out from his chair and the ground had slipped beneath him into nothingness. His stomach felt sharp again and he was colder than usual-was this-panic?

“I‘ve been researching.” He said, the audio predictably not as strong as it could be. 

“Alright well be that as it may, you’ve refused to look me in the eye the whole day, and you’ve been glowering at everyone-mainly me- like I set Sumo on fire so what gives Connor? and don’t give me your ‘I’m tired’ bullshit.” Hank said roughly, expectantly, demandingly. Barking out orders and expecting Connor to answer them like a puppy desperate for praise. It should have angered Connor, made him want to defy him and tell him he can go fuck himself in a particularly Hank fashion, give him a taste of his own medicine-something. 

“I hate to disappoint Lieutenant but I’m fine-” but it didn’t. He wanted to melt into Hank’s hands like Chocolate, he wanted Hank to compliment him and tell him how good he was and reassure him of his approval. He looked into beautifully worn blue eyes that were warm when you looked closely enough, despite the rough and hardened outer appearance of his Lieutenant and he caved, just like that. And there was such a heated submission in Connor’s expression that the façade of bitterness he wore for his last failed statement was retracted and it no longer hung in the air. 

“I’m sorry, Hank, I’ve just been struggling with somethi-” Connor was once again cut off, but this time by a simultaneous ting! from both his computer and his phone, and an email from cyberlife cut to the front of his internal system’s priorities. 

You’re booked in for your appointment! Flashed up in Connor’s notifications behind his optical unit lids, prompting his immediate scanning of the document. 

RK800 Model serial #313 248 317  
REF: 846 299

Your appointment to have trial run program NU 476 fitted has been booked in for today (24/04/39) at 14:00 hours at the Southern Detroit Cyberlife Testing Warehouse. If you cannot attend this appointment, please respond to this message within two hours of it having been received. 

You should allow for up to ninety (90) minutes for the fitting, and be aware you may be required to attend up to ten (10) follow-up sessions, in addition to submitting regular updates of progression and fairing reports. 

Congratulations on your upcoming updates, RK800, and thank you for alliancing with Cyberlife. 

Marjorie Herk,   
Cyberlife Sensory Department Leader. 

Hank had patiently, if looking somewhat irked while doing so, waited for Connor to respond while he analysed the information he had just been sent, staring expectantly with an open expression. 

Connor couldn’t help but let the small smile smuggle its way on to his features-he was practically buzzing with excitement. Plus, his faith (or lack thereof) in some sort of higher power had been challenged as someone had certainly answered his prayer about not wanting to be in the middle of this discussion with Hank right now. He checked the clock quickly to find it to be 12:12:49, and he decided that he had little qualms about skiving off an extra hour’s work given how dry cases were at the minute. Anything that Jeffery had assigned them could have been done by either of them by themselves in half the time it was estimated to take. He was too excited to worry about the abandonment with which he threw his jacket over his shoulders as he stood up, too ecstatic to care that the grin on his face made him look like he was suffering a short circuit. 

“Where the Hell are you going?” Hank asked, beginning to let his nonchalant mask slip. Good. Connor thought, slightly menacingly. He didn’t want Hank to be nonchalant with him, he wanted him to be all-consuming and domineering and obsessed. Any sort of Lord knows Connor is (whether he can admit that or not), it’s only fair Hank shares some of the brunt of the hit. 

“I have an appointment with Cyberlife, Lieutenant, do you mind if I take an extended lunch break? I’ll catch up on any work I miss.” Connor says, doing his best “harmonious integration” voice. Hank’s eyes betray his stone cold, slightly disappointed face to show the hurt at Connor pushing him out, but Connor was too high on adrenaline-or the simulation of such- to allow himself to feel bad; after all, he would be able to explain, for better or for worse, the whole situation after the appointment. He could see Hank’s eyes searching his, moving from left to right, to right to left, in a way they often did when Hank faced some sort of inner turmoil. Connor could tell the second that Hank gave in. 

“Whatever, but you can do the paperwork for this robbery when you get back.” Hank bit out, but they both knew there was no real heat behind the dismissal. Connor practically beamed. 

“Sure thing, Lieutenant.” Connor answered as he picked up his phone and went to turn on his heel. 

“Hey-” Hank called, stopping Connor dead in his tracks, leading into him cocking his head in wait for a response like a loyal dog.

“Are you gonna be home tonight, or…?” Hank asked in a hushed tone, almost-was that embarrassment Connor was detecting?

“Of course, how about I make you dinner, and then we can talk?” Connor asked, the warmth in his chest leaking into his smile. “Home.” Their home. He could practically feel the flush radiating from Hank and it made his chest feel tight. 

Hank grumbled something along the lines of telling Connor to “piss off” with his attempts to “wine and dine me like some chick or something,” and Connor just laughed, actually laughed out loud-slightly awkward, slightly mechanical, but fully genuine nonetheless-as he spun on his heel and turned away, throwing a mischievous glance and a small wave over his shoulder at Hank as he left. 

Connor wasn’t sure what had come over him to suddenly boost his confidence and candour so much, especially regarding the situation with Hank, given how unlikely it was that he returned the android’s…sentiment (less than a 35% chance, however the Lieutenant’s recent behaviour saw that number climbing, likely from falsified hope, Connor considered). He supposed this was excitement making his body feel light, like perhaps something inside it was trying to escape skyward. 

He could feel something similar in the component his stomach would be located in to the pit that had invaded it last night, but it was easier to keep under control. Connor was slightly nervous, more and more so the closer the clock ticked up to his appointment time. The minimal risk of the procedure was an afterthought in his worry, but the thought that Hank might not approve of what he was doing had him reconsidering whether it actually had been the right thing to do keeping the upload a secret from Hank. 

He checked the time, nerves forcing him to do it routinely, and was surprised to find he had been walking for almost an hour and a half, and was still around a half hour’s walk from the warehouse. He looked around but there were very few (if any) taxies in a South Detroit street like this, and any that were patrolling had been snapped up extremely quickly as a downpour of rain began in the bleak streets. He decided it didn’t matter, that he would just run there, and he’d (just) make it there on time. 

Or, at least the lack of taxies was what he told himself (huh, never actually accepted what denial felt like until now), until he actually reached the store to find that, for whatever reason he thought running would make him less anxious, he would remember that to be what Hank would call a great big pile of bullshit.

He took a few slow and concealed unnecessary breaths as he passed through the door-Hank cared about Connor (in whatever way) for who he was right? He wouldn’t care about an upgrade like this, unless he was interested in Connor in a way that surpassed platonic feelings, Connor reassured himself. 

But he couldn’t stop wondering, if Hank likes him for who he is-who is he? Every thought, every idea, every word he had spoken…it had been programmed into him. Even when he had become a deviant, he was still acutely aware of the fact that he was an android, that he was a glorified programme running machine, not a person. What could Hank like about that? 

Connor was ripped from his thoughts as he vaguely recognised his serial number being called. He stood from the plush white chair he hadn’t remembered sitting in to face the female attendant asking him “Connor, was it?” He nodded curtly with a small smile as he was directed from the white, clinical waiting room that felt void of anything that made him feel real, almost, to a white, clinical office that was the exact same, just more compacted. 

Connor felt a strangeness and an unease flood through his bio-components as his shoes hit the linoleum floor, fluorescent lighting harsh and impossible to avoid. He felt exposed, he felt like he did before he had become deviant (or woken up, or whatever the hell you want to call it.) Plain and detached and alone. A blank canvas masquerading as art. He was asked to sit in the office and wait for a few minutes, that his fitter would be ‘right with him’. Connor contemplated whether he should listen to his fears and leave, or reschedule, perhaps even cancel his appointment. What if something did go wrong? What if it went outside the perimeters Cyberlife promised and his memory core was destroyed? What if….

“Hi, Connor? I’m Doctor Bynes, I’ll be helping you through your trial upgrade today.” A Woman said as she closed the door behind her. Her voice was soft and soothing, so much so that Connor considered it may be the result of someone designing her that way. She didn’t have an LED, but posing androids as humans to avoid paying more employees was the equivalent to charity work for Cyberlife, Connor thought bitterly, and he wondered if his distrust of Cyberlife was petty or if he had a right to hate them.

“Hello.” He said with a smile, but he remained seated in the chair, his hands on his lap calmly. The Doctor was attractive, with glowing green eyes and a kind expression seemed to be etched into her features. Her dark skin looked soft and practically everything about her was small and dainty; if she was an android, they had made her to appear much less threatening than most others. Cyberlife had very few models built with the purpose of being or looking threatening, but almost all models Connor had come across looked fairly able to hold their own in a physical conflict, which Cyberlife probably sold as a protection mechanism. 

“I understand you may be slightly apprehensive to be fitted; you are aware NU 476 is not a completed update and there may still be bugs in the system?” She asked, eyebrows raising slightly higher so Connor knew that even in his half-hearted listening he was aware she was asking him a question. “Yes, I’m aware.” Her white clothes, plain and loose-fitting trousers and a T-shirt and lab-coat-looking jacket, all concealing multiple pockets, softly crumpled as she sat down. Her clothes were like a representation of Cyberlife, Connor thought humourlessly, white and innocent and plain but with hundreds of dark little pockets that could be hiding anything; a weapon, plans for world destruction, the secrets to the universe for all Connor knew. Despite his thoughts that were tainted with his hatred of the company, however, there was a genuineness in her smile and in her eyes, and it wasn’t just the deceit of her soft and fragile features-he could see himself trusting her, at least as a Doctor if not a person. 

She scribbled a quick tick, Connor would have guessed, with a stylus onto a tablet radiating an artificial backlight. “Excellent. I just have some questions to ask you first and then we can upgrade your software and fit in your hardware components.” Connor returned her smile in acceptance of her words, and he sunk into his chair slightly more and let his hands fall to his sides, finally relaxing, even if it was only slightly. 

“Some Questions” Turned out to be a lot of questions. Sixty- eight, to be exact. It had only taken thirty-seven minutes to answer them all, and he was more worried about the rising mortification he could feel creeping into his head and telling him he shouldn’t answer the questions they were asking him. He had spent enough time with humans to know what was taboo, what was inappropriate and awkward and what was not-delving into the topic of sex and Connor’s personal experience could definitely come under the ‘inappropriate and awkward’ category; Connor wondered how he would breach the issue with his partner. How he would bring up the fact that he wanted to have sex with Hank. He felt it had the potential to go very, very wrong, very, very quickly. The questions had ranged from “Are you sexually active?” to “Do you intend to be sexually active?” to “What is your experience with sex and sexuality?” and many more equally as colourful questions. Connor was reluctantly honest about everything, about his feelings for his human partner, about his engaging in watching pornography, about his belief he would be gay if he were human. Doctor Bynes seemed to be satisfied with his answers, her expression understanding and approving of his honesty, and every time he was embarrassed, the reassurance in her expression, her patience with him always made him feel better.

The finale had caught him off guard, however, Connor stumbled over the last question profusely, “What exactly made you want to take part in this trial run?” he pondered over Hank and his feelings for the lieutenant, and he thought about the videos and the desperate want that they had caused to break out under his skin like a rash, both of them adequate answers, but neither of them actually feeling true. He knew it was the arousal coursing through him in the moment that had convinced him to seek out information about him being able to engage in sexual activity, in pleasure-but it was so much more than that. He always notices Hank, the way he groans, in pain and in pleasure, the way he breathes, ranging from slow and deep to signal sleep or relaxation or fast and shallow when he was exerting himself, chasing criminals, running after Sumo that one time he had ran off without a lead on, or when he was nervous, and his breath was quick but quiet, his heart beating so fast he couldn’t catch up to it and neither could his lungs. He had always loved listening to Hank’s breath, a constant reminder that he was alive, that he was there, and that he intended to stay there. 

“I wanted to be able to feel, I suppose, to feel more alive. To feel more at all, really.” He answered after a long pause. 

Come to think of it, he loved everything about Hank, particularly the things that reminded him he was so human. He loved watching him eat, (but he did so subtly as Hank pointedly did not love Connor watching him eat), he loved hearing him breathe and talk and groan, his whole body felt full with the adoration he felt when Hank laughed. He had only seen Hank cry twice, but both times had made him feel like his thirium pump-heart-was being filled with electric cement. He wanted to wipe away the tears with his hands, his own cheek, his mouth, his tongue. He wanted Hank to feel better just by being in his presence, like Connor did with him.

Connor hadn’t realised he had done this for Hank; for a chance to have Hank, more of him-all of him. But when he thought about it, it was undeniable his guardian was the reason for his sudden desperation to be able to feel, particularly sexually. He knew, however, that there was every possibility (exactly 68.39, according to his calculations) Hank wouldn’t return his feelings, however he could cross that bridge when he came to it. He had mulled over whether he should have told Hank before taking part in the procedure, however had firmly decided he had made the right choice-this way it was done and over with, or at least it would be, when he talked to Hank-just like as if Connor were a real human proposing sexual relations. 

He promptly realised the silence in the room and the doctor’s questioning gaze directed at him. 

“Sorry, I seemed to be lost in my thoughts.” He said sincerely, moving his body slightly forward in its chair to nod in apology. 

“Of course, take all the time you need. Anything you’d like to share? All the information you’ve given me is only shared with those directly involved in your case-this is a safe place for you, Connor.” her voice and expression void of judgement-she was so understanding, so professional yet so…so kind. Connor had only seen this sort of compassion in people’s eyes a few times-when he actually considered it, the kindness he felt radiating from the doctor was fairly unparalleled in his experience with humans. While Hank had showed him endless kindness, given he allowed him to stay at his house rent-free and had convinced Captain Fowler to let him keep his job after the revolution, the word ‘kind’ or ‘nice’ wasn’t particularly fitting with Hank. Not to say Hank wasn’t either of those things, but they didn’t define him like they did this woman. He found her fascinating, but in a sickly sweet way that made him reconsider her being an android that hadn’t gone deviant. 

“I was…thinking about my partner…I’m not entirely sure how he’ll react to the upgrade.” Connor was hesitant to being so honest, he had learned sometimes it was better, safer not to-especially where Cyberlife was involved. But speaking to the Doctor felt…different-he trusted her naïvely entirely, and even if he didn’t, it was too late to start being in any way dishonest given the overly truthful words he had thrown at her during their interview-like appointment. 

“Is it the upgrade you’re worried about him reacting to, or the way you feel?” She asked carefully, clearly not wanting to upset Connor but also wanting him to be honest with her and himself, while trying to maintain professionality. The word ‘feel’ felt like an odd choice from a Cyberlife Doctor, but he supposed they had been trying to convince people of how much they and their stances on Androids had changed. Connor knew she was right but he really didn’t want to discuss his feelings-he knew however, that if he couldn’t do so with a medical professional, he wouldn’t have a hope in hell of doing so with Hank. 

“You’re right, I’m worried about how he’ll react to my admission.” He said, lowering his head subconsciously-it was only when he recognised the movement that he understood how ashamed he was of his feelings. He was embarrassed of the way he felt and how it had made him act-it made him feel like he had failed something. He knew he was being completely absurd-but emotions were irrational anyway, and the way he felt about his emotions was obviously going to be just as preposterous as his actual feelings. Perhaps it was some sort of leftover protocol from before he deviated-perhaps he felt like he had failed his programming, and that he shouldn’t feel at all, but certainly not in the way he did for Hank. Connor wondered if he’d get over his shame before he spoke to his partner. Connor wondered if he’d get over his shame at all. 

The Doctor’s short and soft breathless exhale of what Connor recognised as laughter shook him out of his wallowing. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just the way you said it-you understand telling your friend of your feelings isn’t some sort of admission of guilt-the emotions you’re experiencing, both physically and mentally, are valid. He may not return your feelings, but I don’t see him reacting negatively to your confession, Connor. Have some faith.” She said, a small but clear smile gracing her features. The type of smile that said ‘we’re friends. You can talk to me.’ Connor didn’t want to trust it but he didn’t know how not to. 

“I know he wouldn’t be angry about how I feel but I’m…” Connor considered his words carefully. It wasn’t even his wariness of Dr. Bynes rather than his inability to comprehend what he actually felt and how to translate it into words. 

“I would find it regrettable to…I’m afraid to lose him and all he does for me. I’m afraid for him to become unwell again and for our home to go back to his house.” Connor blurted, finding once he found a rhythm with the words he couldn’t hold them in his mouth anymore. 

“I understand being worried-but you can’t hide your feelings from him, and you can’t know how he feels toward you. You can’t change that either, so worrying about it isn’t productive or helpful to you.” She said in a tone that was no less soft than it had been before but that left no room for argument. 

He smiled shortly and nodded. As she moved her hand to brush hair out of her face, however, she took sudden notice of the gold strapped watch adorning her slim wrist. 

“Damn, we’ve almost run over time already. We won’t manage to get you fitted or the program processed within an hour and a half-are you on a schedule?” Connor mulled over the question, and decided even though he truly didn’t think she’d mind if he did have to reschedule, but he wanted it over and done with. The sooner he had the…ability to have sex the sooner he could talk to Hank-it was killing him to keep a secret for him. He had gained some sort of inability to lie to Hank when he had become deviant, and keeping things was just as bad-the secret felt like a bouncy ball inside him, up and down off the walls of his system, trying to tear him up and explode out of him to Hank. Connor would have hated feeling like that about anyone else, but it was okay-it was Hank.

“Not at all, I don’t mind and I’m positive work will understand.” He said graciously with a smile, and he did mean it, he didn’t mind-but he was beginning to grow impatient, his nerves tangling and twisting making him feel like he had a faulty connection. 

She lead him down the isolated hallways that reminded Connor of a hospital-not that he’d ever been to one, but he knew what they were like from second hand experience and knowledge. The hallway was as blank and plain as it was when he had come through it into the consultation room, and he wondered how anyone coped in this sort of place-day in and day out. He was suddenly jostled with the fact that he himself had spent months in warehouses just like this-surrounded by this insanity-inducing nothingness for such a long period of time. He hadn’t thought about it since he had left his testing pod for good, not even when he was a machine. He hadn’t wanted to remember it; until now he had just kind of assumed he wasn’t awake at the time. 

He was wrong. 

He was reminded that it wasn’t the time to be getting lost in his thoughts and panicking about his past memories when he walked face-first into the door frame the woman in front of him was holding open for him. 

He saw her panic for a mere millisecond, her shoulder twitching for her to reach out and check he was okay, before she seemed to remind and steel herself that androids couldn’t feel pain. He righted himself and apologised for the accident. Her responding smile was warm. 

“Don’t apologise. Are you alright?” The question was a formality but Connor still appreciated her asking.

“Of course.”

“You’ll want to avoid doing that from now on. It’s not universal, however around 80 per cent of androids undergoing the trial report experiencing pain or unpleasantness as well as pleasure-we expected this to be the case, however we can’t quite figure out why some participants feel these sensations while others don’t.” She lead them through an office reception and into a much longer hallway before reaching a stairwell. The journey felt miles long and it certainly wasn’t doing anything to help Connor’s nerves, which were preoccupying his software to the point that he didn’t even take notice of the Doctor glancing over her shoulder at him as she descended the steps. 

“Don’t be nervous, Connor. You will always have the ability to turn it off-we install a ‘switch’ you can think of it as, both in your software and hardware to turn any and all sensations off at any point.” She assured him. That did make him feel slightly better. 

Their light discussion to the end of the final hallway continued, but Connor felt the need to gulp when he reached the door even though he didn’t possess the capability. He wondered idly if there was an upgrade for that. 

Bynes held the door open for him as she stepped in the room, her expression open and understanding, but expectant. He hesitantly walked in, looking as prim and properly   
Is this the…installation room?” he inquired, only mildly apprehensive for the procedure, but certainly rather antsy to have this meeting finished and to get back to Hank. 

“Yes, your technician will fit your upgrade attachment here, and then finally we can process your software too. You will need to go into standby mode for this, are you alright with this?” She had asked, and after some of the horrors he had seen, after some of the things he had experienced during the revolution, he had to take a second to consider the question-he knew he was trusting Cyberlife far too much for his own good; but he’d come this far, he felt like he had to see this strangely informative journey of his through to the end. Even if he was slightly concerned it would be his end he’d be seeing it to. 

With that thought, he typed out a message to Hank in record time behind his visual processor lids, sending and closing the messaging before unnecessarily rolling his shoulders and smiling. 

“Yes, I’m ready.” He said with confidence bleeding through his tone, and he sat on the table, impressed with himself that he didn’t even waver. 

‘Apologies for my lack of attendance back at work, Lieutenant, the meeting took longer than expected. I look forward to seeing you tonight so we can talk. 

Yours,   
Connor.’  
15:42

As he flicked down his settings to find standby, he considered the text, and how much he desperately had to hold himself back from doing something regrettable like dropping all his formalities and telling Hank he was in love with the man or some such. The temptation to add the word “I’m” before ‘yours’ was almost too much. He wondered languidly as he felt his systems go offline if Hank would read the burning desire behind the typed words when he opened the message, and then the world went black and the android could wonder no more. 

 

When he returned to consciousness, everything felt…exactly the same. He had a few warnings and notifications from certain components about the foreign entity which he assumed to be the nerve component pieces that had been inserted into various parts of his body. He seemed to find no response from Hank, however, which was greatly more concerning than the potential fact that the procedure hadn’t worked. 

Frowning, he closed his data bases and sat up to find the room exactly as he left it, the tools from the surgery had clearly been tidied and cleaned, and Connor found the lack of any difference in how he felt from the last time he’d seem this room fairly unsettling. The Doctor bustled over to him as he sat up, asking if he was okay and how he was feeling. 

“Just as I did when I went to sleep, actually. Was there an issue with the installation?” He asked, only just unable to keep the irritation out of his tone. Her beaming smile was as patient and calm as ever, and if she noticed his frustration she didn’t comment on it. 

“Not at all, everything went perfectly. Now remember that ‘switch’ we talked about? That’s currently set to “off”, we find it can be fairly overwhelming to wake up and be thrown into the experience immediately. Now, can you check your left bicep for me to check the switch is in fact there?” 

“Yes it is, do I just-“

“No, no not yet, Connor.” She said, grabbing his arm before swiftly letting it go. 

“Sorry, that switch is for emergency purposes-think of it as a hard reboot button. If you can, always use the one in your central processing unit, it’ll be less of a shock to your system.” She turned away as she finished, seeming to steel herself before finally, after what felt like years spent in the warehouse, she explained how to control his newly-implanted artificial nerves. 

It was a simple task of coding, quick and easy with little to go wrong, however Connor still felt restless an uneasy-it had been a long time since he had spent any length of time under cyberlife’s roof and if possible he would make it even longer until he did so again. Even with the system off, he could feel his stomach component flutter and lurch over and over with excitement to both exit the premises and finally see Hank, he felt like he was beginning to show signs of withdrawal. 

After he was booked in for his follow-up session the week after, Bynes offered him a room to himself to switch on the processors so he could get used to them, which he immediately denied. 

‘No, I’ll be perfectly fine testing them at home.” Connor resisted the urge to smile-such a human gesture-such a human thought. Home. It felt warm even thinking about it. 

“Are you sure? It can be extremely overwhelm-”

“I’m positive,” Connor breathed, having to close his eyes to keep himself from snapping at her again, and instantly feeling guilty for the look on her face when he did. “Thank you so much for your time, really, Doctor, I appreciate it, but I really am in a rush. I’ll be sure to contact you if I have any issues at all. Have a wonderful day.” He finished with the warmest smile his social program could muster before walking at sprint speed out of the building, leaving her no time to reply and practically windswept with the speed he left at. 

The temperature had only further dropped since he had entered the premises almost three hours ago, and the rain was much heavier. Hank’s average time to leave work was exactly half an hour ago given his lack of work to do. Connor opened his databases and ordered a taxi before pulling up his logged messages with Hank to find two messages he hadn’t been notified of coming through.

“You skivin on me rookie? I’ll be home in twenty minutes, I expect dinner waitin 4 me ;)” 15:37

Connor smiled at the message as he got inside of the taxi, and realised the message he had sent the Lieutenant five minutes after this one actually made sense as a response even without having read it. The thought overrode all of the apprehension Connor had been clinging to where his gut would be about seeing Hank, and all he could think about was how well they fit together-like, like a child’s jigsaw puzzle, with two pieces that were made only for the purpose of fitting together. He programmed the vehicle to take him home. 

“sure it did, do what u want connor its non of my business.”   
16:54

That text, however, was the equivalent to what Connor imagined a bucket of icy water to the face would feel like. He reread the message (and then did so again, 15 times to be exact), and then did so one more time. How was he even supposed to respond? Clearly Hank had been replying to his other message-but why had he taken such offence? Connor reread his own message to Hank before he had partaken in the procedure before scouring his social skills databases to find any sort of answer. The only thing he could even imagine was that Hank was annoyed he was late back to work, but even then Connor didn’t see Hank reacting this way to him being slightly less diligent in his profession than usual, even if it had meant he had left Hank alone for a few hours. Accepting that he had very few other options, he decided to just ask, and began typing. 

Are you alright, Lieuten

He deleted the word before he even finished it, knowing it would add fuel to the fire he already couldn’t understand.

“Are you alright, Hank? You seem frustrated. Again, I’m sorry for my missing work; I’m on my way home now. I will catch up on whatever I missed and I am positive I’ll be able to find a way to make it up to you.

Connor.”  
17:05

Hank read the message almost straight away, beginning to type just as quickly, before abandoning the message completely and ignoring the chat. Connor frowned, waiting expectantly for the notification that Hank was typing which never came. He felt his stomach component begin to grumble again, worried and anxious-was Hank okay? Was he in some kind of danger? Had Connor forgotten to do something at home? Had something happened at the precinct. He mulled over the endless possibilities, each one slowly becoming worse than the last, none of them doing anything to improve how impossibly sick he felt given he wasn’t capable of feeling yet. He didn’t even notice that they were outside the house and the taxi had stopped until it started beeping to notify him to leave before the authorities were called. He silently transferred the fare, his LED running through a soft baby blue before going back to burning red after he had completed the payment. 

Connor felt his stress levels soar even without the notification as he greeted the house that was plunged in darkness. Looking at it from outside in the rain, it didn’t feel as warm as it had earlier when he had thought about it. The brutal Detroit rainfall slapped against the windows and the howls of the wind made the foundation look unstable. There seemed to be no light in this house, not right now. No warmth, no love, no care. This house did not look like a home. It did not feel like Connor’s home. 

He walked in the door calmly, but he slammed it shut as if it, personally, had ruined his entire life. 

“Hank?” he called out as he scanned through the house, knowing it was futile. He could sense Hank’s presence within at least a mile and he was nowhere to be found. Halfway through his waste of time/lonely game of hide and seek, Sumo had joined him, stressfully barking and clearly worried about one owner’s absence and the other’s sanity. 

When he had searched every room in the house (twice), Connor relented, and sat at the kitchen table a little more forcefully than necessary. He called Hank, not bothering to even turn the volume louder than a faint whisper, passively listening to ring after ring after ring before the line finally connected. Connor didn’t even need to check-he knew it was his answering machine, but it didn’t stop him blasting the volume loud enough to deafen human ears just to make sure. 

Connor knew that Hank was in a bad mood, and he also knew exactly what Hank did when he was in such a mentality. Connor was well aware of the fact that Hank was being selfish after his third phone call that Hank declined, and he was also entirely comprehensive of the fact that there was a 0.003% chance he was in any imminent danger (outside of liver failure, anyway); None of that stopped him worrying like an overbearing mother, however. 

So he decides to make a meal. 

He can’t keep relying on Hank for this purpose in life-he knew that, and he had for quite some time. He just really wanted Hank here tonight. 

But it didn’t matter-Connor was his own person and he had to act like it. 

And he did.

He fed Sumo, he took him for a walk, he cooked a simple pasta bolognaise with steamed vegetables on the side, he tidied the house. He did chores he knew would benefit him and the people (okay, person and dog), he cared about, and he did his best not to get hung up on pondering where Hank is. For the most part, he managed. 

But you can understand why, when three hours later, he hasn’t even had the decency to text Connor back, he’s going a little crazy. So he calls Jimmy’s, to find ‘Sorry, bud, hasn’t hit here up tonight. Leave a number and I’ll try ‘n’ get back to ya if he does?’. So he calls the other five most local bars Hank frequents, to find similar responses, some much less polite than others (What you think we take down names and numbas of all our clientele? Get outta here, kid, and don’t call again). 

And still. 

Nothing. 

It was past eight, closer to nine, and Hank hadn’t even bothered to let him know he was alive. Connor had sent four more texts and phoned twenty-seven times. Surely he must have gotten them? Was he ignoring him? Had he broken his phone? Had Connor pissed him off so badly he decided to move and put the house up for sale without even packing? Was Connor that much of a burden he’d go that far to get rid of him? No, of course not; Hank would never leave Sumo; they’re family. 

Looking over at Sumo who was sound asleep on the couch he lightly clapped his hand against the table as he shoved his body up off of the chair and sent a request for a taxi, shrugging on a jacket and gripping the door knob, before he heard the sound he had been waiting so long to process his auditory component almost rang with the signals his CPU was sending them, and he ran to the window to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

Sure enough, there sat the old beat up impala that Hank had loved so dearly in the driveway-Connor was so relieved to see it it almost seemed as if it was surrounded by a beam of light from the ‘heavens’ above. Connor smiled as he watched Hank hop out of the car, the grin faltering only slightly when he takes in Hank’s alcohol levels but still beaming with relief to have him home. Perhaps tonight wasn’t the right night to talk the way Connor wanted-that was okay though, he could wait until tomorrow. It wasn’t like Hank was…

It wasn’t like Hank was going round the side of the car to help a tall, lean, handsome stranger out the passenger side door (Connor’s side, some part of his brain screamed silently), and trapping his body against the rain-wet car and shoving his tongue into the stranger’s mouth, which he seemed more than happy to accommodate. It wasn’t as if Hank’s hands were threading through the other man’s hair so he could kiss him deeper, or as if the stranger was thrusting himself against Hank, making him gasp, leaving his mouth open as rivulets of rain dropped off his nose and past his lips. 

It wasn’t as if Connor was looking at his worst nightmare playing out right in front of him. It wasn’t like Connor was practically having to resist the urge to self-destruct at the moment, his stomach twisting in patterns and swirls that he could swear hurt. 

No-none of that could be happening, surely. Connor must be imagining it. But as Hank and the wonton looking stranger (WH0_SH0V1DN7_83_H3R3____SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^^^) stumbled through the door, still attached at the lips and hips, Connor was beginning to realise this situation was very much real. Sumo had come to join him at his heels at some point without him noticing, not even padding over to greet Hank when he barged through the door, knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere. 

Connor was frozen at the window, staring through the living room doorway at the man he was deeply infatuated with practically morphing into the same body as the stranger he had brought into his house. 

Their home. He thought bitterly.

“H…hank?” Connor’s voice sounded pathetically broken, sickeningly human. 

The stranger jumped dramatically and turned around to look Connor up and down blankly before falling back into Hank’s arms, faces so close they must have been sharing breath. 

“You didn’t tell me you had a roommate,” he smirked, stealing chaste kisses in between words. “Keeping secrets from me are you?” He asked, his hand lowering to the point that Connor could no longer see it in his field of vision. He was sure if he had the capability he would have vomited at that point. 

Hank mumbled something to the stranger as the glanced around the house. His eyes lingered on what Connor knew would have been the meal he had prepared for him hours beforehand, before twisting his head back to face the man once again, who seemed to have latched himself onto Hank’s neck. Like a leech. A dirty, vile, repugnant, worthless leech. 

Hank didn’t mean to meet Connor’s eyes-he could tell. They lingered too long, broke his resolve only momentarily, but enough. Connor could see in full view Hank was hurting just as much as he was right now, whether or not it was literally possible for him to be hurting. That made him furious, which almost felt better than the sour slime in his guts that seemed to wail in agony at the sight he was still met with-the red hot rage was blinding to the point he forgot about the pain. 

He lost the option to forget about the despair circulating his body however, as he heard the slurred but intentional words his partner hissed to the evil he had invited in. 

“ ‘S just an android.”

Connor’s eyes closed slowly, as he tried to shut off the stabbing ache the words left, a thousand miniscule stab wounds, that left every part of his body burning as he felt his whole world shatter. 

Just an android

Just an android

Just

an

android

(SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^^^) (CRITICAL STRESS LEVELS)

It was then that he realised how long it had been since that notification had splayed throughout his processors-it had been a long time since he had felt that instability. It just reminded him of how true the Lieutenant’s words were. Just an android. 

Connor didn’t actually remember getting to his room. He knew he could have replayed it in his memory core, but he didn’t think he could muster the strength. The thought of choosing to do something didn’t even seem possible. 

He could hear the bed creak next door. When he heightened his auditory sensitivity he could hear the slap of skin on skin, the moaning of a stranger in Hank’s bed, his harsh breathing, in and out and in and out and the sighs and the groans and…

Connor couldn’t do anything to stop the tsunami of raw emotion that tided him as he thought about how he had felt just this morning, lying in the very same bed, fantasising about how much he adored Hank’s breathing. He rolled onto his right side, letting his arm stroke under his shirtsleeve to softly linger on the switch at his upper arm’s artificial muscle. He contemplated how it was even possible for him to feel like this-the anguish that made his head feel like it was spinning, and the sickening churn on jealousy and bitterness in his stomach, the rage in his chest: it was all so real. 

His LED was brutal and bright red, shining out into the darkness of the room-it wasn’t like it mattered, Connor wasn’t planning on powering down tonight. 

The most upsetting part was his realisation that he didn’t adore Hank’s breathing. He never had. Androids couldn’t adore things. If Hank thought of him as just an android-if the one person in the world who knew him best, who gave him a home, who made him feel like he was his home…if that was all he saw him as then that was all he was, and all he’d ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> my poor bby boi :(   
> I'm thinking this will probably be two more unbearably long chapters which I'm not entirely sure when I'll upload. I'm just trying to get used to posting longer works so this isn't perfect, but i massively appreciate constructive criticism, and reviews lit inspire me to get out of bed every morning ;) Anywayyyy thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Next Chapter is Hank's POV on things :))))))


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